Everyday
by SnowChaser
Summary: She didn't know she was his saving grace. Ficlets/songfics. Deadpool/OC.
1. Everyday

**Submission Name:** Everyday**  
Author:** SnowChaser**  
Pairing(s):** Deadpool/Wade Wilson x Synn/Nicole Miller**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Deadpool/Wade Wilson. Nor do I own "Everyday" by Rascal Flatts. This fic was written solely for entertainment purposes, and I am making no profit off of it.**  
Author's Note:** This is playing with an idea that cropped into my head. This is the first installment of a series of ficlets that I will be posting.. I know there's been a bunch of 'Pool/OC stuff as of late. This is movie-verse, I guess. Using the movie for basis of Wade's looks and powers, but the comics for... everything else?**  
Summary: **She didn't know she was his saving grace.

**---**

_"The only one who gets me, yeah, you get me- it's amazing to me.__How everyday **you save my life**.  
__Sometimes I swear I don't know if I'm coming or going,__  
But you always say somethin' without even knowing__That I'm hanging onto your words with all of my might,  
And it's alright... **yeah, I'm alright for one more night**..."_  
- **Rascal Flatts**, 'Everyday'

---

She didn't know that she was his saving grace, and she probably never would. An angel come to earth, it seemed- and it took a rough cough to bring his attention back.

"Everyone report back here at 800 hours." William Stryker fixed his rag-tag team with a steely gaze, lingering longer over one individual in particular. Petite, and dressed in a gold and black ensemble, the lone woman in the group stood out. Sandwiched between Wade Wilson and John Wraith, there was no denying that she was incredibly delicate, and therefore more apt to get into trouble. And Wade? Well, he could get her into just as much trouble as he could get her out of, and he often did. Of the team, she spent more time around Wade than anyone else. There had been a swift bond forged between them; first as teacher to student, and then it had gone into something not easily identified. It straddled that fine line between friends and lovers so awkwardly, one misstep would send them tumbling directly over the edge.

Either way, the woman was the one which would cause the most trouble. Thankfully, for the next several hours, she wouldn't be his problem anymore. So, with a sigh... "Dismissed." He turned on his heel, leaving them alone. He didn't have to watch them scatter to know where they were going, for the most part.

---

Victor headed for the nearest bar. Zero and Dukes for the nearest strip club. Bradley headed for a pool hall, and Wraith decided to join him. That left Wilson and Miller... otherwise known as Wade and Nicole.

"Well, that's my cue. Have fun, doll." Wade turned away, only to find two small, slender hands on his arm. His head turned, brown eyes meeting a concerned, heart-shaped face. "Whassa matter, dollface?" His head tilted to the left quizzically. "Did Johnny-boy put a "Kick Me" sign on my back again?" He grinned. "No? Zipper malfunction? No?"

Her head shook vehemently. Because, now that they were alone, she could see the strain around his eyes; the dark bruising that he tried so hard to hide. There were lines of exhaustion at the corners of his eyes, and around his lips. Normally, his bravado was enough to hide it, but not from her.

"C'mon, doll, work with me here!" His grin, lopsided as always, wavered somewhat when he watched one of her sleek brows rise into an arch. "Oh, okay. I get it. I've got something on my face." He stepped to the nearest window, half-dragging the slender woman with him, to inspect his visage. When he realized that, in reality, there was nothing there, he tilted his head to look at her again. "What gives, dollface?"

She swatted at his arm with a half-hearted slap. He feigned pain, rubbing at the spot and giving her a little dramatic pout. "Wade, stop it."

"Stop what, babydoll?" He teased.

"Stop calling me doll, and dollface, and babydoll. You know I do not like it." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. That move never failed to irritate him; she was effectively blocking a great view.

"Sorry, Nic." He sighed. "You know how I get."

"I do." She gave a little chuckle.

"So... you hungry?" Wade struck his most charming pose. He used his words, and smile, like candy sometimes- they were as good as cash. "I know this great little Italian place. Good food, good wine, some dancing." He smirked, teeth a flash of white. "You'll like it, Nicci-girl. I promise."

"Are you going to eat something this time?" Her voice wasn't accusing, only curious.

"I told you, I was sick last time we went out." He brushed it off swiftly- too swiftly.

"You have been sick for over a month now, Wade. I am concerned."Dark eyes met his, worry shining through. It was a sight that caused a hitch in his chest. There was a good reason to be concerned- one that he wasn't willing to share with her. He had to distract her. Fast.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over, Nic. I'll be okay. Just havin' some trouble shaking this cold, is all." One big hand, calloused from frequent use, came up to brush an errant strand of black hair off her cheek. "Now. Are you hungry?" He lowered his head, playfully butting his forehead to hers. This was the Wade she hardly ever got to see; this almost gentle, sweeter side of the merc with a mouth.

"I am a bit peckish." Her lips curved in an affectionate smile. She couldn't refuse him. Never had, actually.

"Well, why are we standing around in the cold, then? I promise, Nic, you'll love it." He held out an arm for her, which she slipped under. It was a buffer against the cold, and a blatantly protective gesture. It also served to slow his much longer strides as he led the way.

---

"Was that not the best shrimp Alfredo you've ever had? Huh? Huh? Stick with me, Nic. I know all the best places." Wade loved to boast, especially when the slender Egyptian woman was this close to him. It hadn't been love, or even really like, at first sight. But now, he couldn't imagine life without the lovely creature nearby. She was the only person who tolerated his almost ceaseless chatter- and knew the best ways to shut him up. "Man, I can't believe you ate that whole plate, Nic. I mean, look at you! Where do you put it all?" He tweaked her ribs, making her squeal with laughter.

"Hey, I will work it off!" She protested with a laugh. "Besides, you had some too." She didn't add that he had only taken a few miniscule bites, which really didn't count for much.

"True, I did." He grinned, before stretching in a yawn. This close to him, she could feel the exhaustion coursing through his veins... and that little niggle of 'something's not right'. But she dared not probe further, for fear that it would drain her, and irritate him. Wade Wilson was not the kind of man who liked being mollycoddled. Still, there was something she could do. A temporary fix, but still helpful.

"Tired?" She tilted her head, one brow arching.

"A bit. Why?" His eyes sought hers, head tilting in adorable fashion to the left. "You ready for a nap?" She nodded. "Okay, Nicci-girl. Let's go back to the hotel and crash for a few hours, 'kay?"

"Sure." She yelped a few seconds later, when he scooped her into his arms. "Wade?! What are you doing...?" After a brief moment of flailing, her arms locked around his neck. Her head tilted to look up at him, eyes curious.

"Taking you back to the hotel." He grinned down at her, again brushing his forehead against hers, sweetly. "Even with you in my arms, I can walk faster than you."

"Thanks to your awesome ninja skills," she deadpanned, before breaking down with a little giggle.

"S'right, Nic." He grinned, shifting her in his arms. He didn't talk much for the rest of the walk; not because he had nothing to say, but because he was concentrating on carrying her.

---

Normally, they would have booked adjourning rooms. Today, without the threat of being caught (until 800 hours, that is), the pair could sleep in relative comfort. One room would suffice. Now, he was lounging on the bed while Nicole fiddled around in the bathroom. From here, he could hear the low, throaty alto of her humming. The sound was as familiar as his own voice, and he paused for a moment to consider that.

He knew he was a looker- had since he was a teen, and used it to his advantage. In his younger years, he'd always had access to a variety of girls on weekends. As he grew older, he never went without a woman (or, admittedly, two or even three) to warm his bed. Yet, as he and Nicole had grown closer, these trysts had slowed, and finally ceased altogether. He had her to warm his bed now, and somehow that was enough. There was a warmth to her that his other girls had lacked; an acceptance of him, and not just of the way he could make her feel- but of the man himself.

Not that he had actually done anything with Nicole. Much as he enjoyed having her near, he still hesitated. Not only was it against every rule that Stryker had erected when women were allowed to join the team (breaking the rules really didn't phase Wade in the least), but it went against something else. Because to act on his impulse would ruin the friendship they had built up over the past few months.

He was snapped from his reverie when the bathroom door swung open, and Nicole stepped out. Clad in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, she looked like the classic girl-next-door. And it was dangerous. Still, she climbed into bed beside him, wriggling under the sheets and curling up like a kitten beside his taller frame. In response, he moved onto his back and opened an arm to hug her close. She shifted, head coming to rest against his chest, an arm sliding up to rest against him. She smiled, inhaling his scent, and he mentally cursed. He could have sworn he heard the beginnings of her purr.

"Comfy?" He queried, smirking when she lifted herself to stare at him.

"Of course." The retort was softer than he expected. "You?"

"Yeah." He reached up with his free hand, tangling his fingers in the silky black expanse of her hair, before pulling her down and sealing his lips over hers. A brief, chaste moment of contact, and he released her as though scalded. Her lashes fluttered open, eyes dark pools of something he couldn't readily identify.

"Wh-what was that for?" She licked her lips, a nervous habit.

"Nothin', Nic." He sighed. Whatever had possessed him to act on that particular impulse, he wasn't sure. Either way, she was acting strangely, and he wasn't willing to push the issue. "Go to sleep now, sweetie."

"You are okay, Wade?" She frowned as she lowered her head to rest against his chest.

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"You are sure?" Her voice was like silk in the darkness, tinged with worry that made him blink. It had been a long time since a woman had actually given a damn about him. That was part of the reason he loved her. She could always make him feel just that tiny bit better.

"Yes, Nicole. I'm fine." As if to prove it, he snuggled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead as though this were a purely plutonic relationship. "Now go to sleep, sweetie." His eyes slid closed. He was tired, so tired. All he could think about was sleep. Content with the warmth of the woman beside him, he began to drift off, only to be called back by dulcet tones.

"Wade?"

"Yeah, Nicci-girl?" His voice was heavy with the promise of sleep, but he still responded. He always did.

"You make a good pillow." With that, she settled into a more comfortable position, and began to doze. Wade, however, remained awake, contemplating the woman in his arms.

She was, truly, his saving grace.


	2. Better Than Me

**Submission Name:** Better than Me**  
Author:** SnowChaser**  
Pairing(s):** Deadpool/Wade Wilson x Synn/Nicole Miller**  
Disclaimer:** As made abundantly clear in the first chapter, I do not own Deadpool/Wade Wilson. Nor do I own "Better than Me" by Hinder. This fic was written solely for entertainment purposes, and I am making no profit off of it.**  
Author's Note:** Second completed ficlet with Wade and Nicole. 'Nuff said.**  
Summary:** Even though she had obviously hinted that she would not turn down seeing him again, he knew that he couldn't. Because it would make him want to see her again, and again.

And she deserved much better than him.

--

_"I told myself I won't miss you  
But I remember what it feels like beside you.  
I really miss your hair in my face,  
And the way your innocence tastes-  
And __I think you should know this-**  
You deserve much better than me**."_  
-**Hinder**, 'Better Than Me'

---

There were times that he really did, honestly, miss her hair in his face. Now was one of them.

The previous actions of the night were still fresh in his mind. The hit was simple enough. He was accustomed to his way of life, and his job? Well, he loved his job. That wasn't the problem- routine was routine. It was the fact that his current... employer, had insisted on hiring another mercenary. She was determined that this hit would go down, with or without him. Not only was it damned irritating to be second-guessed, but his new 'partner' (for lack of a better word) was enough to drive a man mad.

Petite, and slender, Synn was dressed in black leather, with teal piping accentuating her... erm... assets. The silver artillery belt, slung low on her hips, accented every step she took, her hips swaying with a kind of mocking flirtatiousness. Long, jet-black hair was confined in a thick braid. But it was her eyes that had struck a chord deep within him. Almond-shaped pools of mahogany brown, they stared at him out of a face that was horribly familiar, yet so alien.

**His** Nicci-girl would never degrade herself enough to become a merc. She had been a breath of fresh air to him, simply because she was so delicate. Nicole Miller was as dainty and fragile as a butterfly to him. She had been the token girl in their little group, brought in especially for her 'talents'- not the least of which had been in 'entertaining'. Yet, she was no whore. She had proven that she could hold her own among them- at least, after a few sessions with himself, that is. He had found her to be a willing student, and she learned easily. Her English may have still been broken, but her intelligence could be seen in that spark of curiosity.

He had taken her under his wing, because it pissed Victor off. Their friendship quickly built; he taught her to fight, she taught him her native language. They were quickly inseparable, best friends, as some would say, until the night they crossed that line. That night had changed things for them both. She had never had anyone being even remotely gentle with her; he had never had a woman who could keep up with him.

That sweet little thing could not be the cocky merc that stood before him now. Red lips curved in an amused little smirk, her body language oozing self-confidence, eyes laughing at him. They danced with merriment, as thought she found the situation wildly entertaining. "Whatcha lookin' at?" Her voice was much the same as it used to be, only minus the stuttering, and the hesitance. Her words were as cheeky as that quirk of her lips. The tilt of her head indicated she wanted to to play, and well... he was all but powerless to resist her.

He'd never been able to refuse that face.

"Nothin' of importance, dollface." He watched her jaw tighten at the nickname, but she remained outwardly calm. And, no wonder- she hated that nickname. She always had. "Got a name?"

"Synn." She shifted her stance then, gliding towards him with a graceful stride. "And you must be Deadpool."

"Got it in one, doll." He drawled lazily. It had been some time since he had been this close to her, and it brought out his more charming side. He liked it. "Synn, eh?"

"Yes, my name is Synn. And I would appreciate it if you started using it." She drew herself to her full height, which still left her at a disadvantage when compared to him. It caused him to laugh, which she countered with a low growl. Swiftly, she moved, hand coming to his throat, the element of surprise causing him to lose his footing. She had the upper hand, simply because he couldn't get past the changes that time had obviously wrought. "I warn you, Deadpool, do not test my patience." Her voice was dark now, all traces of the flirtatious woman gone. Her eyes fixed angrily on his, and he silently blessed his mask, for it kept the full intensity of that stare out.

"Do you understand?" She kept her hand where it was, and it was then that he countered. A gloved hand shot upwards, grabbing her collar and lifting her to the point where the tips of her toes barely brushed the ground.

"Sure, I understand, **doll**. And I'm likin' my way of thinkin' more than yours." She lashed out with one foot, narrowly missing a certain part of his anatomy, before he released her, roughly. "Capiche?" She nodded, once.

"This doesn't mean we're friends." Her voice held a note of warning as she stared up at him from a heap on the floor.

"Course not, dollface." It took all his willpower to not help her to her feet. To him, she still looked like the delicate creature he once loved. Instead, he watched her rise and rub at her backside, her eyes going to his as that smirk crept back onto her face.

"My, aren't we a gentleman? Letting a lady pick herself up? For shame!"

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, but it gave me a great view." He said it without thinking. "Besides, where would the fun in that be?" He shot her a challenging had time before the hit went down, after all. "C'mon, Synnie-girl. Let me show you just how much of a gentleman I can be..." he hardly registered his voice dropping into the basement, practically growling.

She paused, seemingly considering his offer. The last time she had been around someone who added 'girl' to the end of her name had brought her nothing but tears. Still... against her better judgment, she found herself taking his proffered hand. The leather was slightly cool to the touch, but the touch was incredibly gentle. He smiled at her from beneath the mask, and turned so that she was standing closer to him then she had anticipated. She tossed her head, braid flying to brush against his cheek, and he inhaled deeply.

_Wildflowers._

Synn's hair smelled like wildflowers, as it always had. It conjured up memories of a simpler time- when he was still Wade, and she was his Nicci-girl. He glanced down, catching her giving him a look that clearly said that she thought he was out of his mind. The look almost made him laugh. It was a familiar expression, when turned on him.

Instead of laughing, he teleported to the ground. Once his footing was solid again, he held up his hands, arms outstretched. "C'mere, Synn." She looked down at him with wide eyes.

"You're out of your friggin' skull, Deadpool!" She hissed angrily. "Absolutely incorrigible! Do you really expect me to just... jump... from here?!"

"Yup. And I'm gonna catch you." His voice took on a more wheedling tone then. "I promise I won't let you fall."

"You really are insane!" But her posture had shifted, as she prepared to jump. "You better catch me, or I swear to Ra, I will cut off your balls and feed them to Wade."

"Wade?" Below her, he tilted his head in curiosity. "Who's Wade?"

"My cat." She leapt down now, landing in his arms easily. It was by no means a gentle landing, but he didn't let her fall. Instead, he kept his hands on her waist, steadying her.

"You named your cat Wade?" He let his amusement show through the mask with a grin. She nodded, still catching her breath. "Why?"

"'Cause he's a Siamese, and he never shuts the hell up." She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling mischeviously. "And 'cause Wade was the name of the only guy I ever loved."

"And your cat likes to snack on balls?" He quipped, causing her to giggle.

"Maybe. But you caught me, so I guess we'll never know, now will we." She teased right back, able to hold her own with him.

"And here I was, wanting to meet the cat who gets human snacks."

"It's not too late." She chuckled. "Besides, I'm only a couple of blocks from here." She sidled up beside him, a whisper of contact. "I think I can arrange to have you meet Wade, if you really want."

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of dinner." It was an old joke. They had gone to dinner many times, and 9 times out of 10, he hadn't eaten a thing.

"Dinner?" She raised an eyebrow. "What... did you have in mind?"

"I know this great little Italian place." He smiling charmingly beneath his mask, knowing that her biggest weakness was Italian.

"NO!" The word came out louder than she'd intended, obviously. "I mean... not Italian."

"You're not real big on Italian, I guess?" He shrugged. "Had a bad Alfredo, did you?"

"It's not that... just... please. Anything but Italian." Her eyes took on a pleading quality, and he mentally groaned. Those eyes could coerce him into anything.

"How about Chinese?" She apparently accepted that, for she nodded and linked her arm through his.

"There's good take-out about a block from here. We can go back to my place to eat it, and still be back here in plenty of time."

"Sounds good. Lead the way, Synnie-girl." He almost chuckled at the nickname. Close to the original, but not quite, it was amusing all the same.

---

Her apartment was appropriate. Feminine, with a hint of exotic flair, it suited both Nicole and Synn. Upon entry, a loud yowl greeted them. Synn dropped the bag she was holding, crouching down to pat a rather striking, seal-pointed Siamese cat. Instead of quieting down, however, the cat yowled louder, before starting a deep, rumbling purr.

"Hi, Wade!" The woman cooed as she gathered the cat into her arms, hugging the warm body close. "How's my baby doing, huh?" In response, the cat continued to 'talk', butting his head against hers. Suddenly, slitted blue eyes fell on Deadpool, and the cat **hissed**!

"Wade! That's no way to greet a guest!" She scolded. The cat feigned innocence, and she sighed. "Oh, I can never stay mad at you. It's okay, 'Pool. He's perfectly tame." The cat purred again, but continued to fix the human male with a steely gaze. Mama smelled a lot like the other male, and not enough like him! To compensate for this lack of smell, the feline leapt onto her shoulders and began to rub his cheek against that of his human counterpart, purring all the while. "Wade, stoppit."

"Nice cat." The comment was tinged with amusement.

"Wade, this is Deadpool." Synn turned, stepping closer with the cat delicately balancing on her shoulder. "'Pool, this is Wade." She said it nonchalantly, as if it was a common practice to introduce a cat to a human. It was so utterly ridiculous that he started to chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

"Nice apartment. Sleek, modern... can't even tell that there's a subway stop right across the street." His voice was gently mocking.

"Are you mocking me?" She set the cat down and retrieved her bag of food, heading across the room and into the small dining area.

"No." He fought the urge to chuckle, following her over and plopping down in a chair. "Would I ever do that?" His smile blazed even from behind the mask, and she mock-scowled.

"Oh, you're so funny." Her brows narrowed, slightly. He took the opportunity to break into the bag of food.

"So..." he trailed off. It wasn't like him to be tongue-tied, but he had always been with her.

"Buttons." She responded without thinking, and he laughed. It was completely unlike Nicole, but it seemed to suit Synn very well. He laughed outright.

"Y'know, Synn... I think you and me'll get along just fine."

---

The hit was as simple as he had originally planned. Synn had actually let him shine, and done only what he had asked, deferring to him in that respect. He liked it, in a way. It was like old times. Their goodbye had been all-too brief- she had merely smiled in that enigmatic way, and lifted a hand.

"See ya around, 'Pool." She waved, before turning around and sauntering away, her hips swaying in that sexy manner that drove him nuts.

"Hey, Synnie-girl." His voice brought her head around, one brow arched delicately. "It was fun." What a utterly lame thing to say... but, really, what could he say to her?

"It was." She smiled.

"I just might have to keep an eye on you, dollface." His voice was tinged with that mocking amusement. "'Cause you remind me of someone I used to know."

"Later, 'Pool." Her voice was husky, sexy as hell. "You know where to find me." That said, she continued walking away from him.

"Bye, Nicci-girl." His voice was soft, then, so there was no chance of her hearing him. It had been like old times, with her by his side again. Only, this time, he was actually watching her walk out of his life. Yet... what was that she'd said? He knew where to find her? Was that an invitation?

'Focus, Wade.' He shook his head, stubbornly. He wanted to watch her for as long as he could, and then watch her some more. Her presence had been enough to evoke long-buried memories- some good, some bad. First in his mind, though, was the way her kisses had felt. The sweet taste of summer-ripened strawberries, the warmth of her breath. A moment of gentle pressure, before her lips had opened, granting him access. The way her body had melted into his, fitting so perfectly into his embrace...

He had cared for her, deeply.

Even then, he'd known that she was far too good for him. He was a mercenary, and she was flirting with danger. Still, he had been whole- not the scarred, semi-lucid, deranged man that he had become. She was still way out of his league. Even though she had obviously hinted that she would not turn down seeing him again, he knew that he couldn't. Because it would make him want to see her again, and again.

And **she deserved much better than him**.


	3. Comatose

**Submission Name:** Comatose  
**Author:** SnowChaser  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own 'Pool. Don't own the song.  
**Author's Note:** I've always felt some sympathy for Wade at the end of 'Origins'. This takes place between "Everyday" and "Better Than Me". If anyone doubted that Nicole truly loved him, that can be put to rest. Bear in mind, she hasn't toughened up yet- she didn't start that until witnessing Wade's death. Also- I see views, but no reviews. Please, do remember to review it. Like it? Think I need to improve? Well, I won't do that unless you tell me what needs work. All I ask is that it is done in a somewhat courteous manner (meaning: no flames).  
**Summary:** Sometimes, death isn't the end- but the beginning.

---

_"No reason to survive, I suppose  
Wake us up before we die..."_  
-**Ayreon**, 'Comatose'

---

She cursed her gift.

Standing off to the side, with one big, calloused hand in her smaller one, she was charged with keeping the patient comfortable. Her other hand hovered over his heart, monitoring his vital signs. Every pain, every second of nausea, and she could feel his hand tighten around hers, sometimes to the point of physical pain. It hurt her to see him in such pain- and had she not been a healer, she wouldn't have to witness the gruesome display. Suddenly, the door behind them flew open, and William Stryker stormed into the room.

"Nicole. I need you to attend to one of the subjects."

"Sir... I am here to make certain that Wade is properly taken care of." Her voice was soft, but firm. She wasn't going to leave his side if she could help it. Suddenly, Wade's other hand flew up to cup her cheek.

"Go, Nic. 'M okay." He nodded. She searched his face, worry in the depths of her eyes. He was her everything- and she couldn't lose him. Even bald from chemo, Wade was handsome to her. His too-thin frame was still large enough to keep her warm, and his heart was still beating strongly. "I promise, I'll be fine." It was his last round of chemotherapy, and she saw no reason not to trust him.

"I will be just a moment." She bent, brushing her lips against his forehead in a soothing manner. Her lip gloss left a perfect imprint of her mouth, and she chuckled slightly. "I will see you soon."

"You know it, babydoll." He grinned, giving her a thumbs-up.

Little did she know that the image of him grinning was the last thing she would see for a very long time.

---

Her cell was different from those of the subjects she had helped capture. It was, for all intents and purposes, a dark, dank room. There was a small, barred window which let light in, as well as a smaller one on her door. A bare bulb, suspended from the ceiling. She had started keeping tabs on the weeks on the inside cover of the Bible (ironically, the only thing that she had to read). So far, it had been two years since she had been placed in this little room.

Of course, she was still fed. And she had a bathroom, complete with a shower, which was stocked at her request. A very small, black-and-white television (which only got one-or-two channels) kept her up to date on current events.

Today, that would all change. Outside, she heard a commotion, and ran to the door of her cell to see her guards head go flying. His assailant looked up, caught her looking at him through the door, and tilted his head slightly.

"Are you one of them?" His voice was low and dark, practically growling. She shook her head, eyes as big as saucers. "You want out?" She nodded, still too afraid to speak. "Back away from the door." Mutely, she obeyed. Half a second later, the door came off its hinges, and the man stepped into the room. "Where's Stryker." It wasn't a question.

"I-I do not know." She shivered. "I have been here for a long time."

"What did you do to piss him off?" The man studied her face. "Ya don't look like ya could hurt a fly, girl." He noticed her terrified expression, and smiled. It transformed his face, and she found herself giving him a small, hesitant one in response. "I'm James Logan."

"V-Victor's brother?" She titled her head.

"That's right. Who're you?"

"Nicole Miller."

"Why are you in here, Nicole?" He glanced out the door; it was still silent. Her corridor was not heavily guarded; she had never once tried to escape.

"I do not know. The colonel requested that I help an injured subject, and I was brought here instead."

"Instead of what?"

"I was aiding with a medical procedure when I was brought away." She drew back when his claws slid out. "W-what...?"

"What kind of procedure...?" His voice rivaled his brother's, and she shivered.

"A chemotherapy session." His claws withdrew with a 'snakt', and she sighed in relief.

"Chemo... continue."

"Wade was ill. I was assisting, when I was called away."

"What happened ta Wade?"

"I... do not know." Her brow furrowed.

"Listen, girl. I want you to run from this place, and never look back. You just keep going till ya find a safe place." He stood then. "The back stairs are clear. Go on, now, girl. Get." She was out the door before he could repeat himself, but she couldn't quite leave. Not yet.

"James..."

"Yeah?" He turned, looking at her with those dark, brooding eyes.

"Thank you."

"Go on, girl. Before they realize ya flew the coop." He waved, and the two parted ways. She trotted down the hall, rounding a corner, and rammed into what felt like a brick wall. But walls weren't warm, and she looked up from her awkward position. Instantly, tears filled her eyes, and her hand flew to her mouth.

Brown eyes looked down at her, blankly. It wasn't the blankness that terrified her, though it was a reason for concern. It was that they stared out of a horribly mutilated, yet hauntingly familiar face. His mouth was shut, a flap of skin healed over, making it appear that he had no mouth at all. And his eyes? Not only were they blank, they were surrounded by heavy bruising, and burned flesh. Still, even with the changes, she knew the truth.

"Wade..." his name fell from her lips as she fought not to cry. "By the gods, what did that monster do to you?" She pushed herself up, only to find his hand outstretched. His head was tilted to the side- and a glint of recognition sparkled in his eyes. She took the hand, felt him pull her to her feet. He steadied her, then gave her a tiny push towards the exit. She stubbornly grabbed his hand, pulling at him. "Wade...? Come on." He shook his head, expression helpless. "I will not leave you again." Still, he refused. Suddenly, his hands flew to his temples, and his face contorted in pain.

It was then that she understood.

The offhand joke about him being the "perfect soldier" was no longer just that. When he looked at her now, she could almost see the change from Wade to that hollow, empty shell. Before he could move, she shot down the hall.

---

He didn't pursue her. Obviously, she wasn't as big a threat as some of the others were, for she made it out of the building, in time to see James Logan silhouetted against the sky, atop a silo. Before she could wonder, another figure appeared, in the manner of John Wraith- only it wasn't. Wraith wasn't trained in martial arts- and her heart did a horrible flip in her chest. The flash kick had been delivered by none other than Wade. She had to look away- only opening her eyes when debris started falling. She looked back up, once, as James Logan's claws sunk deep into Wade's neck- and his hand shot to his neck.

A cry started to form in her throat, even as he was kicked, roughly- and she knew, with awful finality, that he was dead. Horrified that she had just witnessed the death of the only man she had ever loved, she fell to her knees and started to sob. "Noo... why him?" Her words made little sense as she babbled. As the silo came crashing down, she remained motionless, like a statue. Everything else was ignored- even Stryker, who walked past her like she didn't exist. It wasn't until the dust settled that she even responded to outside stimuli- and that was when a man wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"I found another one, Rick!" The man's voice sounded funny. Then, softer- "Come on, honey. Let's get you checked out, okay?" In response, she shrugged his arm off, and took a step closer to the wreckage. "Honey... you need to come with me."

"I'm not leaving him." Her voice was soft, yet firm. "I promised him I wouldn't leave."

"Honey..." the man was trying to be kind. "We need to let people do their jobs now." He pulled her back, and she let out a scream and ran from the man, directly into the rubble. Seeing how thick the dust still was, and the fact that it was from a reactor (which he knew nothing about), he let her go- but he would go get a fireman to get her out.

---

She found the body faster than she had anticipated. Before she could get to it, though, she was roughly grabbed around the waist and hauled out by a very angry fireman. Being separated from Wade (for, even if he was a corpse, he was hers), the day's events suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks, and she started to weep softly.

Her heart was breaking into a million pieces. And Wade's name was on every one.


	4. I Will Love Again 1

**Submission Name:** I Will Love Again**  
Author**: SnowChaser**  
Pairing(s)**: Nicole Miller x Wade Wilson**  
Author's Note:** Nicole-centric. First of three-parts, but each can stand alone. Picks up on "Comatose", but ends just prior to "Better than Me". Will also include, "Broken". As I said, this is a three-part arc; two are complete.**  
Thank you's:** Captain Deadpool- Thank you.

Arrested Attention- Thank you so much! There are quite a few more, actually- most still in planning stage. And I'm tempted to try a chapter through the eyes of Wade the Cat, if only to amuse myself.**  
Summary:** Even if it took a lifetime, she would find love again.

---

"Did I ever tell you how **you live in me**?  
Every waking moment, **even in my dreams.**..  
And if all this talk is crazy, and you don't know what I mean-  
Does it really matter, oh, just as long as I believe.  
I will love again, though **my heart is breaking**.  
I will love again, stronger than before.  
I will love again, **even if it takes a lifetime to get over you.**  
heaven only knows, **I will love again**."  
- Lara Fabian; "I Will Love Again" (slow version)

---

She didn't like hospitals. She had been able to tolerate them while distracted, but this time Wade wasn't around to keep her occupied. Without him, the room seemed closed and suffocating. Worse, though, were the looks from the nurses. They had heard about her rescue from the wreckage of Three-Mile Island, and every one seemed to think that she needed to be comforted. That, in itself, didn't bother her. It was the stares, the whispers. They all clearly thought she was out of her mind, going back in to find him.

She wasn't crazy.

She was in love.

Wade had been her heart, as well as her defender. Her constant companion, through good times as well as bad- and everything in between. She had been his confidant- the one person he could turn to when he truly felt like hell. And yet, she never complained. In fact, she welcomed it. He found solace in her embrace, and she had found comfort in his. They fit together, perfectly- despite the height difference. Seeing him die had been devastating to Nicole. The scene kept playing back, both in waking hours as well as twisted dreams.

Only the dreams didn't end there. They continued, and, at the conclusion of each one, Wade was back, and up to his old tricks. She would wake with a smile, only to find him gone, and the cold sterility of the room around her. This would normally send her into a violent fit, cursing in her own language, yet crying the whole while. Yes- she'd been doing that quite a bit, lately. Ever since being separated from Wade, in fact. While she would have what could only be termed as a breakdown, her nurses would gather around her- the day nurse, Veronica, would simply wrap her into a hug and rock her gently. These shows of weakness, though- they had to stop.

Without Wade, she was vulnerable.

She would have to toughen up, if she wanted to survive. The world was harsh, and she knew this first hand. Still- Wade had been her protector, and that had conditioned her to one thing- a false sense of security. Oftentimes, she wouldn't even see the danger until Wade had already shot into action (eventually, she'd come to associate the sound of Wade drawing his katanas with a direct attack on her). As a result, she had let her guard down to the point of having a kind of innocence to her that was almost childlike.

Yet, she wasn't a child. Hadn't been one for a very, very long time.

And the world had no place for the innocent.

---

Six months after she had been released from the hospital, Nicole decided to get a new tattoo. A memorial, if you will. Her right wrist now sported a pair of katanas, in a perfect 'X'. In the center, a heart, with one simple initial in the center. 'W'. The artist who had designed the tattoo had strongly discouraged her from putting the initial there- he didn't want her to cover it up- but she had blatantly refused to cave. This was, after all, a design for Wade.

She had settled into civilian life fairly well. While she still woke up from nightmares, she was no longer sobbing into her pillows when she woke, which was surely a good sign. But there had been bigger changes- and more significant ones- than this. As she had put muscle tone back on, and weight, she had begun to train. Using everything Wade had taught her, she was regaining confidence in herself. She'd actually been complimented by her teachers, and praised for being such a good student. This boost in self-esteem was a welcome change.

Of course, with her history and former occupation, there was really only one thing she was suited for. She fell in easily with her contemporaries, and jobs quickly followed. She worked her way up, eventually becoming known as 'Synn'. This came directly from Wade, and the thought still made her smile.

"Nicci-" he'd said, giving her that grin. "It's a sin for you to look so good in that." It quickly became an inside joke. The phrase had become a nickname, of sorts, and now it had become an alias.

---

Two years later, she had purchased an adorable Siamese kitten, whom she had promptly named Wade. Not only was the little tom kitten very vocal, but he had taken to curling up against her side at night. His purr was deep and low, and there was something about the way the cat would look at her. A tilt to the head, a head-butt, or even a meow. She had fully adjusted to the life of a mercenary now, and all the benefits thereof. She even had a 'signature look' with her tight catsuit. Black, supple leather, accented by teal piping (which also happened to accent a certain part of her anatomy). Her boots, teal in color, were accented by black. And her long, luxurious black hair? Braided, and against her back in a single plait.

A silver artillery belt completed the look, slung low over her hips. All in all, she knew that her delicate appearance was a mere illusion. She could handle herself, and quite well. The biggest change, however, was that she had adopted a new speech pattern. Being surrounded by those who spoke English had a positive effect, and she learned to speak the language naturally. She'd even begun mixing in phrases that she found amusing.

---

The ringing of her phone caused her to drop the bag of groceries she was holding, as she made a mad dash to silence it. A pair of amused, slitter blue eyes watched her, and the second her back was turned, Wade the Cat slunk forward to peer into the paper bag. Not only was it full of food, it made for something amusing to roll around the floor in. He crawled into the bag, peering out as his mistress finally got her hands on the receiver.

"Hello?" Her voice was firm, as it always was when first picking up the line.

"Is this Synn...?" The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar, with a hint of an accent that she couldn't place.

"It is." Her clipped response caused the playful Siamese to roll onto his back and look up at her. She bit back a laugh at the cat's antics.

"I have a proposition for you."

"I'm listening."

---

The offer was a good one. Still, working with another merc was not her typical style, but she couldn't deny that she'd heard of Deadpool. The chance to work with him was a rare one, and she jumped at it. The meeting place had been set, and she had arrived early. Coolly, she paced along the ledge of the roof, enjoying the thrill of being so close to the edge. She only stopped when footfalls were heard. Edging into the shadows, she watched the broad-shouldered silhouette of a man stride confidently through the door. His stance, and the tell-tale crimson/black attire made him instantly identifiable.

She stepped from the shadows, drawing his attention. She knew how to work it, especially around men, so she refused to walk- instead, she strutted as if the roof happened to be a Paris runway. The low-slung artillery belt did wonders, and she could tell he was hooked just from the way his stance shifted. Her nostrils flared, slightly- the feral in her seemed to recognize something about Deadpool, but she squashed it.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"


	5. Broken

**Submission Name:** Broken (The Worst is Over Now)  
**Author:** SnowChaser  
**Pairing(s):** Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Nicole Miller/Synn  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Deadpool/Wade Wilson. Nor do I own "Broken" by Seether. This fic was written solely for entertainment purposes, and I am making no profit off of it.  
**Author's Note:** Predates "Better than Me", but well after "Comatose". Wade-centered. Second part of "I Will Love Again".  
**Summary:** Thinking of her kept him going. Well, that and the tattered picture he always carried. Still, thinking on her made him forget, in times like  
this.

--

"The worst is over now, and we can breathe again.  
I wanna hold you high- **you steal my pain away**...  
There's so much left to lose, and no one left to fight,  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain."  
- Seether, 'Broken'

--

They called him the Merc with a Mouth. The Crimson Comedian. And he knew it was true- he rarely shut up, seeming to favor a running commentary over the dullness of silence. Whoever had coined the phrase 'Silence is golden' would have been very high on Wade's hit list, had the person actually been alive. He knew his nicknames, and deserved them. Still...

He was neither in moments like these.

Perched at the edge of a bed in yet another seedy motel, Deadpool was in a moment that many would never get to witness. Without his mask, the scarring on his face- the blistered skin around his eyes- and his grotesque mouth were free to face the light. His hands- huge and calloused from years of rough use, were without the supple leather which normally encased them. His fingers, with a reverence that seemed almost out of place with this old merc, lightly ghosted over the treasure he held in his hands, taking care with the tattered edges. It was clear that this had been with him for a very long time- and that it held a certain place in his heart. The fact that he carried it at all was a very good indication.

It was, in fact, a picture. A pair of dark brown eyes stared at him, out of a mahogany-colored face. She was smiling at her companion, her hair a wild mess. Beside her, looking directly at the camera, was a much younger version of himself- back before the scarring, and the hurts. His stare was confident and cocky- still, the smile wasn't forced. It was that half-smile that could melt the heart at thirty paces- the one he rarely showed to anyone beside Nicole. They both looked so happy- his arm was around her, and she looked like the slightest movement would cause her to plant a kiss on his cheek. It brought him back to another time- if he thought about it enough, he could recall every little detail- from the fact that it was hot, to the way her hair smelled like wildflowers.

It wasn't right, for him to recall so much.

It wasn't right that he was scarred, and maimed.

And it most certainly was not right that she had found such an untimely death.

Or, had she? Stryker had assured him that she was, in fact, dead. Said it was an unfortunate accident- she had placed her hands on an 'ailing' subject, and been fried to death. Wade had known there was a subject who fit that description- and that was the end of it. Still- he had the oddest feeling that she had not perished, as he'd been told. The urge was so strong, in fact, that he had actually tried to track her movements.

Too bad Nicole Miller was a relatively common name. He'd been forced to give up on that dream.

It was funny, in an ironic sort of way. She had always claimed that he was her protector... when in reality, she was his. Thinking of her kept him going. Well, that and the tattered picture he always carried. Still, thinking on her made him forget, in times like this. With his free hand, he lifted a can of Mountain Dew to his lips, sucking down half the can in one shot for the sugar (and caffeine) rush, before placing it on the bedside table once more. Slowly, he folded the picture back into fourths, returning it to its rightful place.

He snagged his gloves from the end of the bed, pulling them on one at a time, before pulling his mask on. It snapped into place with a sharp sound, and he rose. Pulling on his artillery belt, he clicked it into place. He grabbed his sheath, which contained his prized katanas, strapping it on his back. Last, but not least- he grabbed his guns, twirled them, and snapped them into place.

Too bad he didn't know what kind of a night he was in for.


End file.
